Saturday, a national holiday, the 17th of February, 2007
I slung my bag back over my shoulders, and marched beside my horse for the last five kilometres before reaching camp. The wind had a damp smell from the innards of the forests coating the hills beyond whose slopes another country lies.
The sky is a wondrous playground of entirety, and tonight, as I watched the development of the day, cloud by cloud, a piano went off in my head, well-tempered, playing on infinity and dimensions, baroquely disinclined to pauses.
I wake very early, when I sleep in cold conditions. For the length of rest that I physically need, my consciousness mutes the signals of distress, and my core organs are untaxed while I spend enough recuperation. Then at 4 am, before the birds, in the darkest of dark, I switch on.
It is cold, like petrified, and gentle.
And I coax my mind into my breathing and my skeleton, and then my body restarts behaving as if it has a purpose in this world.
This is how I don't contract a stomache ache from wrenching myself into motion.
We walk out of slumber, my horse and I, and when we are out of it, we eat breakfast, and then we contemplate the terrain on which to direct our first steps.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
few and far between
Sunday the 11th of February, 2007
"And who might that be?"
"That, Minister of Defence, is the Fabricator of the Exterior."
"What is their mandate, precisely?"
"Precisely so, Minister."
"And who might that be?"
"That, Minister of Defence, is the Fabricator of the Exterior."
"What is their mandate, precisely?"
"Precisely so, Minister."
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
feel free
What if you were to find you were living among people with no moral centre?
It is a great thuddering gap in the thought process of most transigents here. We spend the conscious parts of our time working to the requirements of a professional ethos, and graciously - as much as our personalities warrant this - giving the benefit of the doubt and treating expectations with decency, basically adapting to the censure deflected at us. And to a large extent, niggles aside, this is able to be discussed in bars and on the phone, among those in the know (a solidarity thing, cringe with embarassment maybe, but even then, you know how it is), and it's also able to be alluded to in various ways in describing the untranslatable quotidien quality of the days to the people we are apart from but who know us in a sense that has more to do with shared identity than shared experience.
It's regarded as a medical condition that we share. Something that we have picked up. An easily dissected foreign object residing on our person. Possibly we'll shake it off. And people can quarantine themselves from the carrier, should they determine that the mode of contraction is stigmatisable, or if it is obvious that the symptoms are those that provoke no sympathy, or if they are excerbating it unnecessarily.
Beyond that, the fabric of life here is not hidden, just not prominent, so if you were to come from a place that has outlawed smacking, you wouldn't be informed voluntarily, that it was not the case here, until you walked into a punishment ritual and for the time after, feeling as though some dizzy shadow had started up from inside. And everyone giggled when they saw you had seen. And now you know. But still, in the professional arena, you cannot get clarity on this. It is not blown into life with talk. They do not recall whichever incident and clear it up. They do not speak of this side of routine protocol. You do not speak of it.
And thoughts of Roald Dahl tauten.
And the excreta fixation.
What' s up with that?
I cannot find anything on the internet to say. Like that's out of order.
And the vestiges of unspeakable acts in the public spaces and recreation areas that remain in the daylight in suburban open buildings after a night where you find it easy to believe in the sensationalist exagerations of shadowland national psyche, red and black and with all the latest technology.
That in the daylight, you wake into a blue blue day, and the noises you heard, you can't drag into the new encounters, because maybe it's just you. And what you were doing in that place, becomes the primary question (a domestic place, a place you spend time in regularly, the vehicle screeching from the compound, the reminder in the lobby as you step out of the elevator). And why are you asking them?
And the fear is that it's widespread.
And there is some thought that it is not widespread; that it is extremely abnormal, peverse, and degenerate. But I didn't intervene, you say. Ever.
With prayer.
Why don't you get out?
And give that, as a reason?
They would laugh at me. Or maybe, I would have to sit on the floor, in order to not be taken to a very small room.
In these days, I articulate the good. I keep the wellbeing of those in my day as the basis for our relationship. I try to live all the things that I have faith in. Light and nourishment and peace.
It is a great thuddering gap in the thought process of most transigents here. We spend the conscious parts of our time working to the requirements of a professional ethos, and graciously - as much as our personalities warrant this - giving the benefit of the doubt and treating expectations with decency, basically adapting to the censure deflected at us. And to a large extent, niggles aside, this is able to be discussed in bars and on the phone, among those in the know (a solidarity thing, cringe with embarassment maybe, but even then, you know how it is), and it's also able to be alluded to in various ways in describing the untranslatable quotidien quality of the days to the people we are apart from but who know us in a sense that has more to do with shared identity than shared experience.
It's regarded as a medical condition that we share. Something that we have picked up. An easily dissected foreign object residing on our person. Possibly we'll shake it off. And people can quarantine themselves from the carrier, should they determine that the mode of contraction is stigmatisable, or if it is obvious that the symptoms are those that provoke no sympathy, or if they are excerbating it unnecessarily.
Beyond that, the fabric of life here is not hidden, just not prominent, so if you were to come from a place that has outlawed smacking, you wouldn't be informed voluntarily, that it was not the case here, until you walked into a punishment ritual and for the time after, feeling as though some dizzy shadow had started up from inside. And everyone giggled when they saw you had seen. And now you know. But still, in the professional arena, you cannot get clarity on this. It is not blown into life with talk. They do not recall whichever incident and clear it up. They do not speak of this side of routine protocol. You do not speak of it.
And thoughts of Roald Dahl tauten.
And the excreta fixation.
What' s up with that?
I cannot find anything on the internet to say. Like that's out of order.
And the vestiges of unspeakable acts in the public spaces and recreation areas that remain in the daylight in suburban open buildings after a night where you find it easy to believe in the sensationalist exagerations of shadowland national psyche, red and black and with all the latest technology.
That in the daylight, you wake into a blue blue day, and the noises you heard, you can't drag into the new encounters, because maybe it's just you. And what you were doing in that place, becomes the primary question (a domestic place, a place you spend time in regularly, the vehicle screeching from the compound, the reminder in the lobby as you step out of the elevator). And why are you asking them?
And the fear is that it's widespread.
And there is some thought that it is not widespread; that it is extremely abnormal, peverse, and degenerate. But I didn't intervene, you say. Ever.
With prayer.
Why don't you get out?
And give that, as a reason?
They would laugh at me. Or maybe, I would have to sit on the floor, in order to not be taken to a very small room.
In these days, I articulate the good. I keep the wellbeing of those in my day as the basis for our relationship. I try to live all the things that I have faith in. Light and nourishment and peace.
Friday, February 02, 2007
irrationality is not a thing to be reckoned with
Friday the second of February, 2007
Do you think that dissimilarity is all that wounding to a sense of propriety or balance?
Well, we all digest the fruits of the Earth differently. Think of it as an ongoing meditation with the breadth and the depth of human intelligence and conviction. In considering family ties, it's possible to approach a way of identifying enmity without claiming any of the why fors. Here's a tema I've been working on - "You shackle your response to my presence by your codes of conduct" and in parentheses, "(by which blindness I amply profit)".
What's the difference between people?
Their level of satisfaction.
Oh. Their terms of debate? "I spurn your terms of debate" case, terms of debate? Sense of humour? Intelligence?
I think that's more of a variable than a difference. A detail, a degree.
Taste?
My ocular facilities, my critical sensibilities. My eyes, my taste - a quirk of timing wouldn't you say? Of timing making the individual.
What about disabilities?
Well, you cannot possess knowledge of full capability and of restricted motion/ reach simultaneously, so such a comparative intelligence is academic. A nonsense.
Money?
What is money?
Ability to influence the thoughts and behaviour of others?
Isn't that an unprovable extrapolation inferred from empiric observation? It is a mock-question. It falls short of assuming the probe of enquiry. Be sincere.
Questions are sincere, then?
Let's go off topic, then. Yes, a question is a modus operandi of sincerity. It is the sincere in inquisitive employment. When you let sincerity play in your encounters with others - in the dark, or less - then the interaction is of quest. Sort of a square quest. Interest in cubes which domino in spontaneous sincerity.
I believe it to be a contributing sense of satisfaction.
When was the last choice you took that felt good?
That is a calendar I do not possess.
I am now going to html some formative whimsy that was eloquently linearised in ink from an afternoon walk along smoky fields.
I did enjoy considering your words. If you drift off, that's fine, but should you return, think on this, that too.
What is discipline?
working in this environment extends my appreciation of the ways language defines and shapes what is taken for knowledge and of what knowledge is taken to be.
Recieved opinion.
Consensus.
Of convention reached
That results in conventions
Resulting from convention - ways of doing things - ways of thinking
I find it easier to be original in societies where holding/displaying views that vary from the mainstream, or that proliferate according to creeds and experience can, at worst, be met with a benign ostracism.
This could be a monumental consequence if a major indicator of your life satisfaction is hosting and participating in dinner parties, or going for coffee, or any social action that fosters harmonious confirmation and accord.
However, in the wide world of relationships, the health and confidence quotient of people who can foster and absorb incompatible, unrelated and competitive approaches to corporeal issues, simultaneously and cumulatively, is far more optimal.
For one thing, it extends humanity to everyone.
It is inclusive without prescription.
Acceptance is contigent on avoiding transgression and there are conditions that have to be met.
Set phrases that have to be memorised.
Set phrases that have to be recalled to fit the relevant moment.
A script of acceptability.
Imposed opinion
Dictated responses
Assimilated dictatorship
Assimilated hierarchical responsibility and authority
Diluted delegated authority and responsibility
Participatory censorship
Slogan-ism
Peversion - strategic employ of - mottos
lip service to to avoid unattractive consequences
Effective bullying of individual minds ---> influencing the national psyche.
I thought you weren't convinced there was such a thing as the nation.
Ha! Let's go find something to do.
Do you think that dissimilarity is all that wounding to a sense of propriety or balance?
Well, we all digest the fruits of the Earth differently. Think of it as an ongoing meditation with the breadth and the depth of human intelligence and conviction. In considering family ties, it's possible to approach a way of identifying enmity without claiming any of the why fors. Here's a tema I've been working on - "You shackle your response to my presence by your codes of conduct" and in parentheses, "(by which blindness I amply profit)".
What's the difference between people?
Their level of satisfaction.
Oh. Their terms of debate? "I spurn your terms of debate" case, terms of debate? Sense of humour? Intelligence?
I think that's more of a variable than a difference. A detail, a degree.
Taste?
My ocular facilities, my critical sensibilities. My eyes, my taste - a quirk of timing wouldn't you say? Of timing making the individual.
What about disabilities?
Well, you cannot possess knowledge of full capability and of restricted motion/ reach simultaneously, so such a comparative intelligence is academic. A nonsense.
Money?
What is money?
Ability to influence the thoughts and behaviour of others?
Isn't that an unprovable extrapolation inferred from empiric observation? It is a mock-question. It falls short of assuming the probe of enquiry. Be sincere.
Questions are sincere, then?
Let's go off topic, then. Yes, a question is a modus operandi of sincerity. It is the sincere in inquisitive employment. When you let sincerity play in your encounters with others - in the dark, or less - then the interaction is of quest. Sort of a square quest. Interest in cubes which domino in spontaneous sincerity.
I believe it to be a contributing sense of satisfaction.
When was the last choice you took that felt good?
That is a calendar I do not possess.
I am now going to html some formative whimsy that was eloquently linearised in ink from an afternoon walk along smoky fields.
I did enjoy considering your words. If you drift off, that's fine, but should you return, think on this, that too.
What is discipline?
working in this environment extends my appreciation of the ways language defines and shapes what is taken for knowledge and of what knowledge is taken to be.
Recieved opinion.
Consensus.
Of convention reached
That results in conventions
Resulting from convention - ways of doing things - ways of thinking
I find it easier to be original in societies where holding/displaying views that vary from the mainstream, or that proliferate according to creeds and experience can, at worst, be met with a benign ostracism.
This could be a monumental consequence if a major indicator of your life satisfaction is hosting and participating in dinner parties, or going for coffee, or any social action that fosters harmonious confirmation and accord.
However, in the wide world of relationships, the health and confidence quotient of people who can foster and absorb incompatible, unrelated and competitive approaches to corporeal issues, simultaneously and cumulatively, is far more optimal.
For one thing, it extends humanity to everyone.
It is inclusive without prescription.
Acceptance is contigent on avoiding transgression and there are conditions that have to be met.
Set phrases that have to be memorised.
Set phrases that have to be recalled to fit the relevant moment.
A script of acceptability.
Imposed opinion
Dictated responses
Assimilated dictatorship
Assimilated hierarchical responsibility and authority
Diluted delegated authority and responsibility
Participatory censorship
Slogan-ism
Peversion - strategic employ of - mottos
lip service to to avoid unattractive consequences
Effective bullying of individual minds ---> influencing the national psyche.
I thought you weren't convinced there was such a thing as the nation.
Ha! Let's go find something to do.
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